MCMXIV
by Shocotate
Summary: "1914...1914...Sounded messed up in his head, tasted funny when he sounded it out, even while he was sliding his 100% Elric original 1914 crown down over his hair. Perfect. Now to make his reappearance." It's New Year's Eve in East City. [Written for FMASecretSanta2018]


**MCMXIV**

 _1914…_

 _1914…_

Sounded messed up in his head, tasted funny when he sounded it out, even while he was sliding his 100% Elric original 1914 crown down over his hair. Perfect. Now to make his reappearance.

Edward tugged his red coat a little tighter around himself as he stepped back into the main barroom, one handed, the other holding his lemonade. Stupid draught, not like the torrential rain outside was helping. Not much else to be expected for East City though, even in winter.

With the smoke hovering far up over his head (because the ceiling was extra high, is all) he passed by Havoc setting out another game of pool with Breda and Fuery. Huh, looked like Fuery was winning, judging by all 500 cenz notes flying his way. Havoc's smoke trailed up to join all the rest in a white, wavering line.

"Wanna join us, Brother?"

Al waved at him from across the room. He and Hawkeye were playin' darts in the corner, her explaining something about how hard to throw, before she hit triple twelve. The Lieutenant'd probably shoot eighteen at golf too if she played.

"Nah, I'm good."

He could always play later, but first, better pay a certain miserable Colonel a visit. There he was, all on his lonesome, perched at the bar in his dark waistcoat like a crow. Maybe he was drying off from getting drenched earlier.

The teen strode up to the bar, pockets jangling with the traditional spare coppers, and hopped up onto the barstool. He _hopped_ , but he coulda made it without, of course. His automail leg made an awkward thud against the side, but he styled it out, leaning on his elbows.

"Evening, Colonel."

"Evening. What do I owe the pleasure of this visit from you…" He glanced at him through the very corner of his eye, "and your ludicrous hat?"

"Can't have my boss drinking alone on New Year's Eve. But don't worry, I ain't planning on puttin' you outta pocket." Ed pointed at his drink with a toothy grin, and up to his crown. "You want one?"

He clapped his hands just in case, eyes darting about. Hm, yeah, that napkin could work.

"Leave the fireworks 'til _after_ midnight, Fullmetal. If we start pulling out party tricks that hat of yours might not live to see it." He looked back at the others still at the pool table. Ed turned around as well, enough to see Fuery on his tiptoes taking another shot, so hard his glasses slid off.

"Shame Falman isn't here. He always pulls out _his_ party trick this time of year. You know how he is with dates, can tell you something cool that happened on your birthday."

Something cool already happened on his birthday. His birthday, duh. Ed managed to stop himself saying it out loud, but the Colonel must've caught his smirk and settled for rolling his eyes before taking another swig of his drink.

Heh, least Falman got to escape East City for a while, lucky him, having some leave to spare. Hopefully the weather was treating him better back home.

Another extra boring silence stretched. He'd better ask Roy if he wanted to be Riza's partner at darts at some point, but first, _business_. With an awful screech Ed scooted his barstool over a tad.

"So uh, me and Al wanna get on the road again soon, got anything interesting comin' up?"

"A couple, but this is my off time. I'll let you know next year."

"Suit yourself." Ed huffed behind his glass, "Who knew you'd be doubly useless today." The rain clattered above the sounds of the bar, as if to highlight said uselessness.

"Useless? Ha." Mustang leaned back in his stool (not enough to fall over though, damn it) and laughed, going on and making a big show about his use _ful_ nessas the First Visitor. Apparently the Colonel was planning a few late night house calls, spreading his black-haired luck around. Vaguely, Edward remembered something about that, waiting in for the First Visitor on New Year's Day, some neighbour they saw from time to time, might have been a vampire. He could've been mixing that part up with a movie though. Hm, he'd hafta ask Al about it.

The radio on the back of the bar was mumbling between its spurts of music – a local musician or something. Ten minutes to go, apparently. The clock said the same.

Ed smirked to himself as he finished his lemonade. Hard to think staying up late was once so difficult, even if only for the occasion. He thought of being all wrapped up in too many blankets in front of the fireplace. Bundled up with Mom they'd watch the clock between their droopy eyes, with Al always nodding off next to him and the next morning asking 'Did I make it', and telling him of course he had. At some point after the clock ticked over Mom scooped up and threw the ashes of the old year out the back door. He never really got up to watch, not like he _could_ with Al stuck drooling on his shoulder. Maybe he ended up falling asleep, too, he didn't remember.

Those might have all been the same memory, actually. Just the same parts of the same night that seemed like it stretched on forever.

But staying up was no trouble at all for Alphonse now, was it? Behind him he was still tossing darts like it was nothing. His little brother couldn't even sleep anymore… Their house was nothing but ashes, too…

Edward slouched forward on the bar, shoulders slumping.

What kind of brother was he? He couldn't even keep his promise, the whole reason he'd joined the military and he wasn't even _close!_

He'd wasted another year getting _nowhere_ …

"Hey, hey, Ed, don't go falling asleep on me now."

Something broke into his miserable daze, shaking his shoulder.

Well, there was only one person next to him, must've been…

Edward raised his head enough to catch some strange, quiet expression on Roy's face, like he saw through him and _knew_ , not that he _could_ know, but something that bordered on the tiniest bit of concern made itself known. He carried on talking before the boy could react either way.

"Come on, I got you one of these, and yes, they actually come in pints."

Something that was clearly not lemonade slid along the bar, almost hitting him straight in the face. Where his empty glass had gone was anyone's guess.

"Wh…Huh, what's this for?" He poked the glass suspiciously, making dull little tinkling noises against his white gloves.

"We're all military dogs here; you need feeding and watering just like any other dog."

"Uh…thanks, I guess." He couldn't exactly turn it down, but he didn't have to play along fully either.

The need to be stubborn drew him further out of his daze, and Edward sat up straighter, studying the pale-ish liquid – looked like melted amber – careful not to swish it so much with all that foam at the top. He'd never really drank before, outside those mouthfuls of mulled wine at Granny's during one of her stories about her many, many previous New Year's Eves from when she was less of a tiny hag. While they awaited midnight they sometimes caught a glimpse of white out the windows, those rare times Resembool saw snow. Winry always sipped the wine with her chest puffed up and pinky finger out. It was too warm to gulp, but even those sips brought a soft sorta warmth to the winter nights.

The bartender didn't object about him taking the drink, his silver pocket watch was proof enough, and besides, it didn't count when it was with food. He popped one of the twelve special New Year's Eve grapes into his mouth for good measure. The other eleven could wait the extra…four minutes.

"Cheers." Roy held out his glass. Good job offering it while he was _eating._ Bastard **.**

"Chwwrs…"

 _Tink._

Perfect, didn't even spill any.

After nearly swallowing his grape whole, Edward took a long, _long_ gulp-

"Ppft!" and spat it right back out. "Jeez, you actually drink this crap for fun?"

Ok, it was more like a mouthful. Thankfully he didn't swallow any.

"You get used to it." He chuckled, drinking his own without a care in the world, watching him sputter and cough. Still, getting anything out of the Colonel that wasn't a smug little laugh was an achievement. "Call it an acquired taste."

"Nah, I'd rather keep my taste buds alive, thanks." After he'd recovered the boy forced himself to take a tinier drink, _not_ spitting it out this time, while his other hand used Mustang's prototype-hat-napkin for its intended purpose, drying the bar. He could almost hear Granny laughing at him behind her glass of Stray Dog back in Resembool. That pointy hair of hers probably worked as an antenna, detecting all drinking related failures throughout the East.

"Brother, are you ok?" Again Alphonse called over to him.

"Fine, jus' drinking the worst drink in the universe."

"Worse than milk?" His hollow voice echoed along, still full of curiosity even after all they'd been through.

Even so Ed faltered at the question. He stopped short of blurting out 'Of course!' out of instinct, no matter how much he was secretly pondering if there was a way to transmute the residue away without frying his tongue. It wasn't great, sure, but milk was obviously worse, right? Drinking milk was out of the question in every way, _plus_ ,this stuff wasn't coming out of a cow, so it was less of an affront on that side. Not to mention he was still drinking it right now…

The conflict rattled around in his head some more, his strand of hair twitching. Regardless, as the older brother, he still needed to give Al a satisfying answer…

"Ermm…I'll let you decide." _Nailed it._ "Just you wait, Al, soon enough you can have some and suffer too!"

"I'll add it to my notebook. But I like milk, so I bet it's just fine."

"Ha, you'll see. Now get over here, the countdown'll be starting any second!"

As his brother joined him Edward watched the clock, counting down the seconds like he did as a kid. He let himself smirk again, a renewed, fiery determination burning in his golden eyes, that this time next year they'd be sat this bar again, with Al back in his body, trying this terrible crap, too.


End file.
